


seven ways to go through school

by pr_scatterbrain



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, equestrian AU, show jumping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8131063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/pseuds/pr_scatterbrain
Summary: Shea arrives in Milwaukee a month before the new school year begins and a few weeks after training camp with the Predators finishes. His agent keeps saying it’s only a matter of time before he’s called up, but he hasn’t gone anywhere yet.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eclecticverse23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclecticverse23/gifts).



> To eclecticverse23 - I hope you enjoy this.

 

 

_Ten decisions shape your life,_

_You'll be aware of five about_

‘I’ll try anything once’ – The Strokes. 

 

_If riding were all blue ribbons and bright lights, I would have quit long ago._

George H. Morris. 

 

_Some people skate to the puck. I skate to where the puck is going to be._

Wayne Gretzky.

 

 

 

 

Shea arrives in Milwaukee a month before the new school year begins and a few weeks after training camp with the Predators finishes. The lockout is over and his agent keeps saying it’s only a matter of time before he’s called up. However he hasn’t gone anywhere yet. There has been talk. Lots of talk even. However Shea’s never been good at that. It had made him feel particularly awkward at camp in Nashville. It was okay when he was skating, but off the ice he hadn’t quite known how to be the person they wanted.

“Maybe later this season,” Ryan Sutter had said.

When he said it Shea was moving gingerly and half of him was coming up in bruises thanks to a ‘light’ check from Kimmo Timonen during a scrimmage.

(Shea had overheard the coaching staff talking about giving him time to grow into himself as he picked himself up from the ice).

“Maybe next year,” Ryan tried again.

Maybe never, Shea had thought to himself.

In the middle of another growth spurt, he isn’t sure if he can ever fit into the space they wanted him to fill on the roster. He isn’t sure he fits here, at the University of Milwaukee either. He knows he doesn’t want to. Not when he all he’s ever wanted is to skate under the bright lights and on the big ice of the NHL.

Pekka Rinne says Shea is impatient.

Shea’s mostly is restless in a way that isn’t particularly photogenic. He feels like he’s been waiting all his life to go pro and now he has to wait longer. The lockout is officially over. He promised his parents that he’d go the college route rather than AHL, but he never intended to spend more time than he had to in either. It’s easier at the rink. At least he can set the pace with the guys here.

Summer has been kind to some, and perhaps kindest to the people who are no longer present. Shea can’t help but note the space where people are absent. Some have been called up, others have graduated. The only thing that has changed for Shea is he has a new defence partner, Kevin Klein, and probably a headache. Kevin isn’t new to the team and it’s probably a disservice to him to call him a headache, but change has never been something Shea has ever adapted to well.

“Don’t worry, Webs,” Kevin says when Shea misses one of his passes during drills. “Well get used to each other.”

Shea chases after the puck; it’s easier than answering.

When they break up at the end of the day they all end up at the same place for dinner. Like always Shea finds himself squeezed between Pekka and Rich Peverley. Only Pekka is a Predator prospect, but they were both invited to attend the Predators prospects training camp. Rich wasn’t much better there than Shea. Pekka was a different story. Drafted a year after Shea, Pekka had acquitted himself with a solemness and grace which Shea knew was mostly show. Maturity or the appearance of it, had currency. Especially for goalies. There was even some talk about him becoming a backup this season.

“Talk, talk, talk,” Pekka grumbles when someone brings it up.

“We’d miss you,” Jarrod Smithson says.

Pekka shrugs, but Shea thinks he’s pleased.

They’re roommates this year.

“A fucking relief,” Rich says.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Shea tries to say.

“It was that bad,” Rich says, like he would know.

He doesn’t.

Pekka does, but that’s mostly because he knows everything.

Last year Shea roomed with a science major. Everyone had told him college was different, but he hadn’t expected it to be that different from billeting. It was like he and his roommates existed on different planes of reality. For most of the year Shea had slept on Ryan's dorm room floor; sometimes on his lumpy dorm mattress. It was a bit of a mess and then there was the thing his heart did around Ryan and the way they just clicked.

Ryan isn’t here this year. He’s actually been called up.

A part of Shea twists whenever he thinks about that; he isn’t sure why. Ryan said he’d be waiting for Shea in Nashville.

Partway through dinner, some guys from the University of Wisconsin’s Panthers text about a thing.

Strictly speaking the Panthers and the Admirals are rivals. Most of the time Shea hates them and their stupid black and gold uniforms, but hockey is a small world and he’s never been good at holding onto grudges. He played with and against some of them at Worlds. Others, he knew before that; running into them on the national and international level while he was growing up. Adam Burish is one of them. He’s the worst to end up drinking with at parties and of course Shea ends up stuck making small talk with him.

“You’re worst at small talk,” Pekka says at the end of the night when they are stumbling back into their doom room.

Their floor is empty so for once they don’t have to worry about being quiet.

“I tried,” Shea says.

“You asked after his sister.”

Shea likes Nikki. He says that to Pekka.

Pekka groans. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

 

(If Shea has a reputation, he hopes it’s a good one but it probably isn’t.)

 

 

Training camp comes and goes. When classes start up, the problem presents itself early on.

Shea is used to having limited time. Early on he had to get used to that. He might not always get the best grades, but he knows how to be a good student. He has to be one if he wants to remain on the roster. Last year, Shea managed to maintain a good grade point average throughout the season, even heading into playoffs. He did this mostly through good time management and thoughtful class selection. This year wasn’t meant to follow this pattern. This year he was meant to be in the NHL with Ryan.

Shea waits and waits, but the phone call doesn’t come.

His parents call though, and they want to know about his academic course load.

It is a long phone call. His parents talk about taking every opportunity presented to him and about how lucky he is and about how much they know he can achieve if he puts his mind to it. Not many people get scholarships to university – or go to university. Neither of his parents did. Shea’s stomach twists. He blames it on cramps. Afterwards he quietly pulls out of the French language class he had enrolled in. His mother was right; he can do better. He already speaks French. Well, Quebecois French.

He’ll pick another language class.

“I won’t be able to help you,” Pekka says when Shea asks him to look over his class outline.

“It’s only a beginner’s class,” Shea pleads.

Pekka rolls his eyes. “You signed up for German, you idiot.”

“Don’t you speak it?”

Pekka gives Shea a look. “I’m from Finland.”

Shea isn’t sure what that supposed to mean. Isn’t Finland like those other Scandinavian countries that spoke a version of German and French? When he says as much, Pekka punches him.

“I speak Finnish, the national language of Finland, you dick.”

Shea swears. He can’t believe he made such a stupid mistake. Thankfully they’re still within the shopping period of the semester. He can switch over… if they offer Finnish at all. Yet that only makes Pekka shake his head.

“Even if the language department does offer Finnish, I don’t have time to tutor you and do all my own coursework,” Pekka says.

Shea slumps; he knows that. He wouldn’t have time to tutor someone either. Glancing through the online list of offered languages, Shea looks for something. “What about Latin? That’s kind of like French.”

Pekka sighs.

“I have to choose something. I need a language credit.”

Reaching over, he shuts Shea’s laptop. “No more stupid decisions today.”

 

 

Nominally at least, Shea and Pekka are considered international students and are members of the International Student Union. Mostly they have little to do with the group or any other group on campus. However during orientation they are encouraged by the hockey coaching and management staff to attend some of the organised events. It’s meant to help make them feel like they have a community. However for Shea and Pekka, they’ve never needed that when they are part of a team.

Despite that, they usually try to make time for the orientation stuff. If nothing else, it gives them the opportunity to take advantage of the free food the union put on to lure new members. Free food and sometimes free beer.  

At the first party of the semester, they luck onto an event with both.

Pekka disappears within minutes, but reappears later with beers and a confused looking guy.

“This is who I was talking about,” Pekka says. “Shea meet Roman.”

Roman turns out to be Swiss exchange student who among other things is fluent in French, Italian and German. Though mostly Shea gets stuck on the exchange student part.

“You came here?” Shea asks.

Roman shrugs. “It wasn’t my first choice.”

Shea laughs. It wasn’t Shea’s either.

As it turns out, Roman is short on money.

“I’ve got a work placement at the library,” he explains. His tone of voice says everything.

“At least you don’t have to talk to people,” Shea offers.

Rich’s girlfriend Nathalie works at Target and she has the weirdest customer service stories.

Roman makes a face. 

Apparently he doesn’t get paid much to shelve books. Shea doesn’t get paid anything to play in the NCAA, but he can spare some cash for weekly tutorial sessions. He clinches it with the promise to smuggle Roman into the hockey department’s gym. It’s way better than the student gym – they actually have equipment that is less than a decade old.

“You drive a hard deal,” Roman smiles.

He has a really great smile.

Shea takes a sip of his beer and ducks his gaze for just a moment. When he looks up, Roman is still smiling at him. His eyes are bright, but mostly they seem very kind. Shea – Shea isn’t sure what to do with that. He ends up smiling back and at the end of the night he leaves with Roman’s number, email, and with a study date organised. Maybe it should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t.

“That was easy,” Shea tells Pekka, somewhat in disbelief.

Pekka grins. “You’re welcome.”

 

 

The calm of the new school year doesn’t last long. Not when the hockey season begins.

The Admirals season begins with a bang. Or close enough to one. In their first game Shea scores a goal, gets into a fight and almost falls over himself during a line change. The whole thing is a mix of adrenaline and quickly forgotten embarrassment. Or, maybe not so quickly forgotten embarrassment, as Shea has a feeling his team will remember how he fell face first over the bench in his rush to avoid a too many men on the ice penalty. Less notable things have become a locker room joke.

The night ends with an overtime win and a celebration. It spills over into the earlier hours of the morning. Shea ends up walking home with Rich and Nathalie. Shea’s is probably more drunk than hungover, but it isn’t like they care. They’re not much better off as it is. Partway back to her sorority house she clambered onto his back for a piggyback ride.

“This is going to be a good one,” Rich says, turning to Shea. “This feels like our year.”

Rich then stumbles into the gutter and almost drops Nathalie.

Grinning, Shea pulls him back onto the footpath and steadies Nathalie.

Rich is in his senior year. He’s technically undrafted but he has ambition. He skates every game like a scout is watching and treats every practice like a chance to hone his skills. After getting to skate alongside some of the NHLer’s during training camp, Shea was struck by how similar Rich’s work ethic was to theirs. He hasn’t said as much to Rich, but Shea wouldn’t be surprised to one day see Rich playing there. It might take him longer than guys like Sidney Crosby, but there is only one Sidney Crosby.

Rich is also going to marry Nathalie.

That kind of blows Shea’s mind, but apparently they’ve talked about it. Maybe they aren’t formally engaged yet but they’re heading that way. Pekka says he has a hunch that Rich will ask after graduation. He’s probably right.

“Want to crash in my room?” Rich offers.

“You can have his bed,” Nathalie adds with a wink.

Shea laughs, but shakes his head.

It’s a good thing tomorrows practice is optional. Good for both of them, Shea thinks and ends up saying when the three of them part.

From her perch, Nathalie reaches out and hugs him close. It’s awkward and somehow comforting, even despite Rich reeking of cheap beer and sweet mixed drinks. Shea doesn’t know who he would be without a team and his teammates. Maybe he says that too, because Rich somehow manages to hold Nathalie with only one arm and use to other to pull Shea close.

“You’d be ok,” Rich tells him. “And we’d be a fucking mess.”

Rich is a shit liar, but there is a reason everyone on the team loves him.

“I love you too,” Rich says.

“Me too,” Nathalie adds.

Shea rolls his eyes.

 

 

Roman pulls some strings and organises a study room for their first tutorial session. According to him, it’s one of the perks of his placement. Shea isn’t sure if that’s meant to be a joke, but Roman’s eyes twinkle when he says it. It’s disarming, and Shea feels a bit stupid when he fumbles with his bags. The straps of his gym bag tangle with the satchel containing his language homework. He tried to do it before class. That was probably a mistake.

Barely two weeks into Intro German, Shea is glad that he had the foresight to organise a tutor before he got too over his head in course material he didn’t have a hope of understanding. Really glad.

"It’s not so bad,” Roman says, when he catches Shea wincing as he hands his first assignment over.

It is.

However it is fixable and Roman is patient.

He walks Shea through his mistakes and then helps him draw up some flashcards to help him revise while he’s away for the Admirals first road trip.

“That way you won’t have to pack any text books.”

By the end of their first session Shea feels a little less lost than he did in the beginning. He also feels like he might be able to manage one German credit without ruining his grade point average and getting benched for it. He doesn’t say that, but he thinks Roman knows. He’s is a good tutor. He works at Shea’s pace, and doesn’t mind explaining things twice.

Afterwards they grab coffee and Shea uses his pass to get them into the athletic department. It’s not really that difficult to navigate, but Roman doesn’t look bored while Shea shows him around.

Most of Shea’s friends are his teammates. It’s always been like that.

Without that framework, Shea doesn’t quite know how to talk to Roman. Thankfully, Roman is happy carry both sides of the conversation. He’s bright and easy to talk to. Shea wouldn’t have thought they would have much in common, but somehow they end up spending most of the afternoon together without Shea realising.

“Want to grab dinner?” Shea ends up offering.

“I could eat.”

“You have been to the cafeteria?” Shea asks.

Roman grins. “You trying to impress me?”

For some reason Shea feels his face heat. He’s saved by some of his teammates. They must have heard the word ‘dinner’ and by the end of the evening Roman has meet and befriended most of the Admirals.

“You won’t need me to sneak you into our gym,” Shea says afterwards.

Roman grins. “Pity.”

 

 

Despite not needing Shea to get him into the athletics department, somehow Roman becomes a fixture in Shea’s routine. It doesn’t take long for him to get used to studying with Roman. Initially they start with half an hour of German revision, but at some point or another they both starts bringing along other set readings and coursework to work on. It’s peaceful and Shea usually gets more done with Roman than when he studies alone in his dorm room.

More often than not also end up working out together as well.  

Sometimes Roman makes Shea go through flashcards while on the treadmill. It’s awful and hilarious and Shea should really be more coordinated than he is.

“You’re not trying,” Roman laughs when Shea almost stumbles while getting another answer wrong.

“I’m running.”

“You can do both.”

Shea thinks his coach will kill him if he hurts himself trying to multitask.

Roman’s been picking up his training lately. He’s also picked up a second job at a local barn. Shea knows next to nothing about horses and barns. According to Roman, it’s apparently a prestigious stable filled with performances horses, but that doesn’t mean Roman is paid more or sometimes at all for his work. (Roman explains that that is normal in the equestrian world - at least in America).

“It’s normal in the hockey world to.”

Roman grins. “It won’t be when you’re in the NHL.”

Shea – it’s early days for that.

“I’ve read up about you,” Roman says. “Apparently you’re the next big thing.”

“That’s Sidney Crosby,” Shea deflects.

Roman shakes his head. “That wasn’t what I read.”

Shea isn’t sure where he would be reading stuff like that.

“The Predators website,” Roman says.

Shea rolls his eyes. “They have to say nice stuff. They drafted me.”

“They don’t have to be that nice,” Roman tells him, which is – something. However then he smirks and ruins it by adding; “Unless they’re trying to trade you to the Blackhawks or something.”

“Fuck you,” Shea swears before he realises what he’s saying.

Roman only laughs.

 

 

Shea’s never been the best at locker room stuff. Joking around is one thing, but Shea doesn’t like laughing at people. At Worlds he hated how his teammates felt the need to bring Sidney Crosby down a peg. There was something so ugly about it and the way they hid the truth of their actions behind laughter and ‘team bonding’. Sidney smiled along with all of their antics, but there was something brittle about his expression. It had made something deep inside Shea’s chest go tight and uncomfortable.

He feels like that in the Admirals locker room partway through the season when he sees one of the new guys on the team, Cody Franson, stranded in the showers.

Cody’s a freshman and pretty confident in himself – which is exactly why some of the other guys pranked him. Right now he doesn’t look sure of himself at all. Flushed and clutching only a face washing towel over his dick, he opens his mouth but Shea doesn’t let him speak. He doesn’t want to hear Cody’s voice shake while he tries to laugh it off, or worse, beg for help.

Even after putting on Shea’s gym clothes Cody seems pretty shaky. Shea doesn’t feel comfortable leaving him like that, so they end up walking back to their dorms together. Cody’s dorm building isn’t exactly on Shea’s way to his own, but Cody doesn’t know that and Shea doesn’t tell him.

Cody’s pretty quiet as they walk through the campus. It’s not exactly what Shea’s good at, but he manages to do most of the talking. It’s probably the most his spoken to Cody – or anyone – all semester.

When they get to his dorm, Cody promises to get Shea’s clothes back to him but Shea shakes his head. He can live without one set of work out gear for a few days. Though it would be nice if Cody laundered them for him. When he says that, he manages to make Cody snort.

“Someone’s got to,” Shea adds, grinning just a little.

 “Yeah, yeah,” Cody says.

There is some colour back in Cody’s face and he doesn’t look quite so young anymore. Shea thinks he’ll be ok, but he invites him to grab dinner with him and some of the guys. Ryan always said Shea should have been a Duck, because at least then he’d have an excuse for taking so many guys under his wing. It was a pretty lame joke. It still is, when Rich recycles it over dinner. Yet it still makes people laugh.

Every team Shea has been on has been a close knit one. It might happen naturally with a lot of them, but it is never an accident.

 

 

(Ryan and Shea just clicked. On and off the ice, they just got each other.

Shea doesn’t think that was an accident either.)

 

 

Everyone said university was different than high school and juniors, but Shea is still playing hockey. As long as he is wearing a jersey, he is usually ok.

Usually.

He tries to keep in touch with Ryan. When he and the Predators are in town to play the Wild, some of the guys organise to go and watch. Ryan gets them tickets and afterwards he loops an arm around Shea’s neck and the guys force him to buy their dinners.

Some of the Predators overhear.

“Big spender,” one calls out, laughing.

Anyone is a big spender compared to them.

Ryan is bright and happy and full of stories at dinner. Shea’s heart does things.

Ryan is and isn’t the same. Or maybe he isn’t. Shea wouldn’t know. It isn’t like he and Ryan have really talked since he went up to the Predators. Free time isn’t really a thing in the NHL. Between being the rookie everyone in Nashville is watching, he’s been tasked with being the fresh face of the franchise. It’s – it’s different for him now. The NHL is different – everyone says that, even Ryan sort of does over dinner. He’s never been one to talk big, or talk much about himself, but Shea knows how to listen and he can hear what is implied between the lines.

 

 

(Shea doesn’t know how he feels later. Maybe lonely. Maybe homesick for something he didn’t know he could lose. It… he isn’t sure what to do with any of it.)

 

 

The stupid thing inside his chest sticks around. After some of the guys notice, it becomes a joke. So Shea smiles and laughs along. He knows how to let jokes fizzle out. Only he mustn’t do it quite right.

 “Are you ok?” Roman asks part way through their next tutoring session.

Shea nods, but Roman must see something on his face.

Shutting his book, Roman gives him a considering look.

“What?” Shea asks.

“Want to come to work with me?”

 

 

Strictly speak Shea isn’t allowed in the stable where Roman works, but the stable manager and most of the boarders have a soft spot for Roman. It helps that Shea drives him there in Rich’s car.

“Normally I have to take the bus.”

Shea winces. He can’t imagine that is easy or quick.

“It isn’t,” Roman confirms.

He’s smiling.

There is something quietly content about Roman in the stables. Walking by his side, Shea feels his mind settle and the tension in his shoulders unwind. However it’s only when he sees Roman in the saddle, it becomes clear that he downplayed his ability. Shea doesn’t know anything about horses, but Roman makes it all look so easy. That, from Shea’s experience, is an ability that requires a combination of skill, dedication, and innate talent. Roman has all three in spades.

“Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you competing or something?” Shea asks afterwards while Roman is cooling down his last ride of the day; a gorgeous but flighty bay Irish Sports Horse.

“I am.”

Apparently he sometimes is and isn’t being paid by boarders to take their horses out on alternative weekends.

Shea gives him a look. “Competing for yourself on the pro level or something.”

Roman – shrugs.

“I’m sort of breaking the rules,” he explains.

While washing the sweat off the Irish Sports Horse, Roman tells Shea that parents run a stable in Switzerland. Roman and his older brother Yannick both grew up riding and showing performances horses their family bred. If Roman had his way, he still would be. However like Shea’s parents, Roman’s family want him to go to university. They want him to have options beyond the show jumping arena. There had been a series of negotiations and an eventual compromise on a year of study before Roman made any decisions about going onto the circuit with their horses or taking up an invitation to ride for someone else. 

“It’s my gap year,” Roman explains. “but instead of travelling, I’m studying.”

Apparently Yannick spent his gap year working for William Fox Pitt’s stable. He’s still there.

“My parents learnt from their mistake.”

“They didn’t learn too well,” Shea tells him.

Roman shrugs.

 

 

People aren’t meant to live in two places at the same time. Shea thinks Roman understands that.

 

 

A few of the younger boarders at the stable are university students. Shea meets some at an off campus party that he really shouldn’t have let Pekka drag him to.

“Roman invited us,” Pekka said when Shea tried to argue with him.

He says it like that’s the final word on the matter. With Pekka, it often is.

When Roman sees them, he breaks into a wide smile and Shea thinks he should know better but his heart maybe reacts. Roman is just so bright. Tonight he’s wearing in a crisp white shirt and Shea can’t quite look at him for too long. It makes him feel stupid, and stupider still when he lets Roman and the boarders convince him to ride one of their horses. They drag him to the stable on the weekend and laugh a lot while Roman tacks up a school masters for him.

The mare, Amber, is a quiet horse with a reasonable career in the dressage arena behind her. Roman describes her like a player in a scouts report. Shea mostly notices how there is a healthy sheen to her chestnut coat and the way she moves freely when lead into the indoor arena. Roman says he doesn’t need to hold the reins as Shea mounts, but he does anyway. Both Amber and Shea hold their breath as he does. Roman doesn’t. Exhaling visibly, Amber follows. Shea doesn’t.

“Breathe,” Roman reminds him.

Shea huffs.

Roman breathes in and breaths out. He waits until Shea manages to fall in sync with him.

Despite Shea’s height and his built, once on Amber, he doesn’t feel like he’s out of proportion.

It’s funny how that works. Sometimes it’s the small things. Sometimes it isn’t.

Shea isn’t sure if he likes being on a horse or any of Roman’s knowing smiles. He only manages about maybe a quarter of an hour until he’s ready to get off.

“What did you think?” Roman asks afterwards.

Shea thinks he likes horses more from the ground. When he says as much, he makes Roman laugh.

 

 

(Shea likes that).

 

 

Somehow it’s a surprise to see Roman in the stands at one of the Admirals home games a few days later. He turns up decked out in Admirals blues and greys and sits by the glass.

“You converted your boy,” Cody says, when he notices.

Shea might like Cody, but he’s still a bit of douche.

Rolling his eyes, Shea waves and is rewarded by a bright smile.

(He’ll deal with his team later. It’s worth the ribbing he knows they’ll give him.)

 

 

(“You should ask him out,” Pekka says later, when it’s just them.

Shea shrugs.

Maybe.

Pekka bumps his hip against Shea’s. “I like him.”

“I like him too,” Shea admits.

Roman is kind and clever, and ambitious in a way that Shea intimately understands.

“I like him a lot,” Shea says.

“Yeah,” Pekka says.)

 

 

Partway through the season Roman takes on a new horse. Eight years old and with an owner who badly wants to see its potential realised, the gelding isn’t patient even on the best of days. Roman can’t make ribbons happen overnight. Mostly he hacks the gelding outside the arena, trying to get it to stretch out all his tense muscles. It’s a work in progress. Most things are when it comes to horses. Or at least that's what he tells Shea. It's something Shea knows himself.

So much time outside has left Roman golden. Even under the artificial flurecent light of the library he glows and when they’re going through flash cards Shea thinks he can see a hint of freckles across his nose. It distracts him for a moment and when he misses an answer, Shea feels himself flush.

Shea isn’t good with things like this. He isn’t much good at anything that isn’t hockey.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Roman says, putting down the cards.

There is something sure in his voice, like he now has the measure of Shea. The way he looks at Shea; Shea doesn’t know what he could have done to deserve it.

“Come on,” Roman says, gathering their things. "Let's go."

Shea – Shea follows.

In the darkened library stacks, Shea’s heart is loud in his ears.

He thinks his heart shouldn’t have had room for Roman, not with everything else. Only it does, and it skips a beat when Roman presses him back against the stacks and kisses him.

“Yeah?” Roman asks, pulling back just a little.

Roman’s eyes are so bright, almost electric and -

Shea nods.

He doesn’t have Roman’s steady hands, but he tries to be gentle when he cradles Roman’s jaw in his hands and kisses Roman again and again and again, until they are both breathless.

 

 

(Shea’s agent calls. He says to expect a call up.

Shea’s been waiting for one for a year and counting.

“It will be coming soon” his agent says.

Shea doesn’t know what to feel after he hangs up. In the end he doesn’t say anything to anyone.)

 

 

Shea tries to focus on the Admirals and their season. He gets asked about the Predators at nearly every game. He never knows if what he’s saying is right. He wishes it were easier. He wishes he could know what to say.

His agent keeps saying to keep up the good work.

Shea can’t make any promises.

“A call is going to come,” Roman says.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

 

 

In the dark of the early hours of then morning Pekka and Shea bundle themselves in Rich’s car and drive until the city light have long since faded. They drive and they drive until they reach a beautiful ground that is lit unevenly. Parking in the spectator’s area they follow the sound of activity which leads them past horse trailers and temporary yards. It’s a different world.

There are horses covered in thick blankets, and others being warmed up for their first class. Shea keeps an eye out for Roman but it’s Pekka who finds him. 

Dressed in soft clothes, Roman is calm and himself in a way Shea knows in his bones.

“You going to cheer for me?” he jokes, taking a sip out of the travel coffee that had bought for him.

“Are we allowed to cheer?” Pekka asks.

Roman smiles a little. “Maybe stick to clapping.”

He’s riding three horses at this event. One is the flighty eight year old gelding. Away from the familiar environment of the barn, his eyes are wide and his ears swivel from place to place. He only seems to soften when the three of them stand by his yard. Leaning his huge head over Roman’s shoulder, he exhales and chews for a moment.

It’s always been clear to Shea that Roman is good at this, but seeing him in his first class put it into perspective in a way seeing Roman train at the barn couldn’t. Roman is in a league of his own. 

“Shit,” Pekka says, when they see Roman fly over the jumps. Some of them look are as big as they are tall.

They are on the edge of their seats for the entire round, and afterwards when they catch up with Roman, he is laughing. Full of adrenaline and joy, he looks so beautiful and alive. Shea’s heart does something inside his chest and he feels so obvious when he goes over to Roman.

“You were so good,” Shea tells him and he knows he sounds stupid saying that, but it’s too late.

It doesn’t matter. He means it.

Roman laughs a little at the awe in Shea’s voice. Bringing him close, Roman hugs him with both arms. He smells of sweat and leather and horse and behind them, the gelding his breathing heavily. Roman is breathing heavily too. Shea feels each breathe racking through Roman’s body. Pulling back, Roman shakes his head when one of the barns grooms offers to take the gelding.

“Come on,” Roman says. “I’ve got to cool him down.”

"I'll help," Shea offers, because why not.

 

 

Maybe they both have places they want to go. But Shea thinks, at least for now, both of them are where they are meant to be.  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find/follow me on [tumblr](http://www.pr-scatterbrain.tumblr.com) if you want <3


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